


Recollection of Faded Dreams

by redFreckles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:50:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redFreckles/pseuds/redFreckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some call it addiction, others call it desperate, and I find myself between the two, still wondering how I got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recollection of Faded Dreams

Sometimes I wonder what it most be like to feel so sure. To love the life given to you, and to not be able to wrap your mind around the thought of taking it. Sometimes I think I wonder too much about the people around me. I do, I know that for a fact, I just like pretending that I don't. It gives me comfort in a oblivious and ignorant way. Like the way I 'pretend' that I don't think of the pills in my cabinet, or like how I 'pretend' that the scarfs in my closet aren't taunting me,'pretend' I don't want to dive deep, deep ,deep down into the waters of the bay a little ways from my house, never to rise from the suffocating element. Like how I 'pretend' I don't want to die.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that the scars under my sleeves, the red marks that cover my thighs, and the angry blisters that have wrapped themselves around my neck are not from the lack of care and aid during my younger years, and then remind myself that that would be a lie. It's disappointing and disgusting to think I, myself would go to such lows to find pity and company, yet the blades still remain under neath my underwear, in the bottom drawer of my dresser, and happen to find themselves drawling crimson liquid from pale white skin every few so nights. Some call it addiction, others call it desperate, and I find myself between the two, still wondering how I got there. Of course I know how I got there. I just like pretending.

I once had a teacher who believed he knew everything, and that his opinion was absolute. A memorable man, if not for his lectures and views about the world, then most likely for the crisp clean white suit and neon green undershirt he wore every Friday without fail. An interesting man, yes obnoxious and aggravating, but no less of interesting. One day he looked at me sort of strangely, and I pointed it out in a round about way, but he just smiled his creepy all knowing grin and said, 

"I just thought it was a shame, for such a smart, talented girl with so much potential to fall so far from where she was."

I bothered and provoked him that whole week for what the silly, confusing riddle meant, only to receive the answer that he was omniscient and shouldn't be questioned. It took three years, but when I woke up one day at the age of sixteen, sweaty, blurry eyed, in an unknown bathroom, head stuck to the toilet, and a headache that just screamed hangover, I think I finally understood what he meant that day. I really have fallen far haven't I, Doc Scratch?


End file.
